


Home

by Twyd



Series: Anew [2]
Category: The Mummy Returns (2001), The Mummy Series
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Childhood Memories, Coming of Age, Denial of Feelings, Depression, Developing Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, Loneliness, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Orphans, Slash, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 22:45:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16293263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: Alex's return to London does not go as planned.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> Alex is aged-up for the more Alex/Imhotep parts.

It is London, it is night. It’s been three years since Alex slung himself on a ship back to London and left Imhotep for good. Three years of struggling through the smog, the half forgotten language and customs, the legal complexities of claiming his heritage, not to mention the effort of sorting through all the old possessions. 21 years old, he has a university degree and not much else. Well, that wasn’t quite true. He has money, he has a house. More than could be said for most his age. But still, he was so terribly, painfully alone.

He’d been so stupid. He’d thought it would be easy, setting himself up in London. He was smart, he was tough; with the childhood he’d had, he’d thought the rest of his life would be a walk in the park. He’d thought friends would flock to him like doves, fascinated by his adventurous past. But no. He is different, he is a beat out of tune, and this does him no favours. He doesn’t like drinking, doesn’t like partying, and his reference points are completely different to those of his peers.

So, he has graduated with honours. He is applying for jobs. But his background must be too out-there, or else he must come across as too cocky or too young or too _something_ , because he is never taken forward. Imhotep took great care with his home-schooling, giving him the best tutors in Egypt, and making sure he attended all the examinations he needed to - in which his grades soared. But in England, the phrase ‘home-schooled’ quirks eyebrows - it suggests a troublesome child, a strange upbringing.  Which Alex can’t deny, he’ll give them that.

Not that he needs to work. He has a mansion, and inheritance large enough for him to live out his days comfortably. He could travel. He could take up some expensive hobby. But he wants to dig, he wants to work in a team toward something meaningful, and have a family and friends. He doesn’t want to _buy_ his relationships and his way forward in life. His classmates had always grumbled about prospect of actual digging; the dirt, the long days, the sun, the sheer effort of it all when more often than not it turned out to be fruitless. For Alex, that was the whole point. He misses his parents.

He walks around  London of an evening, on his own specially crafted tour of the sights, trying to identify with this city as his home. He watches families, tourists, couples speak to each other, and has the crushing feeling of being invisible.

It is one night near the Tower Bridge that he leans over with serious intentions, staring into the churning grey below as he grips the chilled railings. It is a cold night, with few people about. The wind blows through his hair, beating his clothes against his body, daring him.

Then a thought lands behind his eyes, as clearly and as succinctly as if it had dropped clean out of the sky. He wants to die in Egypt. He loves Egypt, had been conceived there, grew up there, strived to understand it, spent the majority of his life there, both with and without Imhotep. He wants to be with his parents.

Yes, he decides, pushing away from the railings and the river with both reluctance and relief. He will die in Egypt. He will allow himself to be one with that glorious land one last time.

-

Once he is in Egypt, however, his urges change. The sounds and the smells fill his blood with a new kind of energy, an excitement. He is home. He wraps himself up to hide his blonde hair, and melts into the background with his excellent arabic, free to do his research unhindered. He chooses to look for Imhotep. He can always end his life afterwards - it is not a goal with a strict deadline. 

Finding Imhotep is not as difficult as Alex imagined, and there are less minions this time when Alex does track him down. Many of them look like genuine historians and archaeologists rather than guards, so much so that Alex almost thinks he’s made a mistake - until he spots a very familiar face.

“Lock-Nah.”

He waits for the other man to turn, before pulling down the cloth to reveal his face.

“...you,” the man says, with no real malice, but without any friendliness, either. He studies Alex for a moment in silence. “Follow me.”

Alex hurries to catch up with the man leading him through the various tents, ignoring the curious gazes of the others. It’s a little awkward, clumping after this terrifying man after all these years.

“So...how’s things?” Alex tries.

“The same,” the other man replies shortly. He leads Alex to an abandoned looking building and gestures to the door. “He’s in there.”

Alex stares after the other man, who is apparently going to abandon him here.

“Um…”

Lock-Nah turns back to him, revealing a rare smile.

“Don’t worry. He will be pleased to see you.”

And then he is gone. Alex turns his gaze to the door, as if it will tell him what to do. He cannot hear Imhotep moving around inside. He cannot hear anything. He wants to run. Why the hell had he come here? Just because he wanted to die didn’t mean he wanted to die in fear and pain.

Eventually the agonising becomes too much, and he lifts his hands to knock and get it over with.

“Come.”

God, that voice. He’s shaking inside already. He forces himself forward, turning the handle, pushing, stepping through the door. Imhotep’s back is turned, but he moves once the door is opened.

_“ Alex.”_

No-one has ever said his name like that, ever been so pleased to see him, since his parents had been alive. He doesn’t put up a fight as the other man strides across the room and takes him in his arms.

“Alex,” the former mummy murmurs again, as tears fill the younger man's eyes. “I am so glad you’re here. It is good to see you.”

Alex leans into him and says nothing, dizzy with emotion.

“Are you well?” the priest prompts, when he doesn’t speak. “You’re not in any trouble?”

He swallows as he realises he has to speak.

“No,” he says. “I just wanted...I missed Egypt,” he mumbles.

Imhotep nods as if he expected as much. He finally releases Alex and guides him to a chair.

“Come, sit. Are you hungry?”

Alex shakes his head no. He’s tired. Now the fear and the agitation had worn off, he just wants to sleep.

“You have come at a good time,” Imhotep continues. “Tomorrow we will retire to a hotel in Cairo.”

Alex’s eyes fly open, that he didn’t realised he had closed

“That’s not good timing,” he argues. “I didn’t come all the way here just to stay in a hotel.”

Imhotep smiles, looking pleased. “I am glad your spirit for adventure is still strong,” he says. “We will only be in Cairo for a short time. You will have time to recuperate from your travels, and be fresh and rested for our next venture.” He smiles again and settles a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“I am very pleased to see you, Alex,” he says again. “I hope you stay with us for a long time.”

-

He dreams of his childhood that night. He dreams he has angered Lock-Nah, and the man is on the verge of punching him, when Imhotep steps in and pulls Alex to his side.

“I shall take the boy tonight, Lock-Nah,” the former mummy says. “You may take some rest.”

Lock-Nah bows his head and murmurs thanks, throwing an imperceptible smug glance at Alex as he does so. _Serves you right._

Alex swallows as he’s left alone with the immortal, every fibre of his being telling him to run.

“Maybe I should...sleep somewhere else,” he says hesitantly. “I promise I’ll be good.”

The priest chuckles at this.

“I highly doubt that.”

However, to Alex’s relief, the mummy does not seem set on torturing him. He gives Alex a choice of books to peruse before getting on with his own reading, ignoring the boy completely. Alex starts to relax. The tent is warm, the bedding comfortable, Lock-Nah is not around to give him death glares and not-so-subtle threats.

The dream ends there, with no real meaning to it. It is not yet morning, and he is not yet truly awake. Since returning to London, Alex had tried to stamp out thoughts of his past, but now he realises he must let them co-exist with his thoughts or they would consume him. He closes his eyes, and lets it happen.

-

He doesn’t know how long it had been when grief finally gets him in its chokehold. One he starts to weep he can't stop. He cries most of the day and well into the night, until he is almost sick. He stays in his tent and refuses his food, only sipping water when the heat gets too much. Lock-Nah mostly ignores him, although one dark night he drops an extra-thick blanket over his weakening body.

“Lord Imhotep asks after you, boy,” the guard tells him one morning. “If you do not come out, he will come for you himself.”

Alex ignores this, drawing his knees up in silence, and Lock-Nah leaves him. He is alone for a few hours before Imhotep himself enters the tent. Alex hunches up tighter and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Are you not well, child?” the priest asks, feeling his forehead.

Alex says nothing, eyes hot with tears.

Imhotep lowers his hand to brush them away with his thumb.

“Go away,” the boy sobs.

The priest ignores this.

“Rise now. You must come with me.”

“No.”

“Yes, child. Do not force me to be rough with you.”

That is a threat enough in itself. Alex forces himself out of bed and feels for his shoes, avoiding the other man’s eyes.

He is taken into Imhotep’s arms on the camel as they ride across the desert, alone. Imhotep could be taking him to be sacrificed for all he cares. The wind blows hard in his face, and he curls back into Imhotep’s cloak and his warmth despite his hatred. He keeps his eyes closed as their camel comes to a halt, and he is still once more.

“Boy. Open your eyes.”

He doesn’t want to, but it would be wise not to argue. He opens his eyes. And stares. A sunset, unlike one he had ever seen before, stretches across the golden sand, licking the golden sand with its flames. Pyraminds unlike any he had ever seen before stand tall and ethereal in the distance. Time has been kind to them - Alex could almost imagine he is in a different century.

“What are they,” he whispers.

“They are our next venture,” Imhotep tells him. “I will give you a book on the subject. We begin tomorrow.”

“Next venture,” he mumbles, eyes flicking between the untouched structures and the spectacular sky. “Aren’t you trying to take over the world anymore?”

He can almost sense the man’s smile.

“Not quite.”

Something in Alex hardens then.

“You think a sunset is going to make me feel better?”

“No,” Imhotep admits. “But you should be reminded of the glorious world you live in, and the adventures that lie ahead of you.”

Alex sniffs and says nothing.

Imhotep gives the boy a discreet squeeze then, feeling how much weight he’s lost. “You will eat tonight.”

“Tomorrow,” he pleads. “I’m tired.”

Imhotep does not reply. They regard the scene in silence.

“You are in great pain now,” Imhotep tells him suddenly, after a moment. “But you are strong, and the best way you can honour your parents is to grow up to be strong, healthy and wise.”

Alex shakes his head, barely listening.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he sobs. “Send me to an orphanage. I don't want to be here.”

“An orphanage is a bad place for a child. It will smother you and crush your spirit.”

“My Dad grew up in a Cairo orphanage.”

“And so he would have told you that it would be the last place on Earth he would want for you.”

Alex says nothing, not wanting to admit he’s right.

Imhotep sighs and shifts the boy in his arms.

“Take advantage of what I offer you, Alex. Eat the food I provide you with. Work with your tutor. Let Lock-Nah teach you to fight, antagonise him if you are willing to risk the consequences. Learn about this land you so love. If there is more you require of me, you may ask. You will honour your parents, and go on to lead your own extraordinary life.”

Alex closes his eyes against the sunset, tired by his words.

“What do you care,” he mumbles. "Why not just dump me at an orphanage if that's what I want."

“I have told you,” he answers. “You are a child, and I have no quarrel with you. It is no inconvenience to me to provide for you.” He pauses. "I was an orphan myself. I do not relish the pain I have caused you."

Alex says nothing. He keeps his eyes closed as the wind picks up, shifting on the camel as he muscles start to cramp. Imhotep wraps him more tightly in his cloak, and they finally start back. The wind at least is behind them now, and he is sheltered by Imhotep’s body, lulled to sleep by the gentle trotting.

When he opens his eyes again, Alex is almost surprised to find himself an adult just returned to this land. His mind whirls with memories: Imhotep showing him jewels and special things within the tombs, baby animals playing in the desert, the stars like crystals in the night sky. Imhotep sharing books with him, caring for him when he got sick, buying him things as they passed through cities, chiding Lock-Nah if he became too heavy handed...

Alex finds it hard to look Imhotep in the eye that morning, convinced the other man will read his thoughts. But the former mummy only looks at him and inquires, 

“You have slept well?”

He nods. In a way, he has slept better than he had in years.

The other man nods back in approval.

“Good. Come and eat. There is still much to discuss.”

-

They are in a hotel now. As much as Alex had complained and craved adventure, it is nice to back on soft linens, in a clean and polished room, bug and rat free. Imhotep is in a conjoining quarter next door. Alex is unsure why he is being kept so close, whether he is being kept prisoner again or if he is free to leave. He doesn’t question it too closely as of yet. His only plan had been to die anyway, so it’s not like he needs to worry about being in danger.

He had eaten with the rest of the men in the afternoon, Lock-Nah treating him as if he had never left, but now, in the evening, Imhotep has requested to dine with him alone. Alex is both relieved and dreading it. Imhotep has said nothing of their parting kiss. Alex almost wonders if he’d imagined the whole thing. Imhotep showed no such behaviours to him as he was growing up. It didn’t make any sense.

They dine in private in Imhotep’s quarters, at a table by the fire. Oil lamps lick the room with warmth and light, a gentle breeze weaves through the cracked window that balmy night, insects kept at bay with special oils.

“So,” Imhotep says as they eat, in Egyptian. He favours his native tongue when speaking to the younger man, as he had when Alex was a boy. “Tell me about your adventures in London.”

Alex snorts. “There were no adventures. I was studying for three years. It takes up a lot of time. That, and sorting out my parents stuff and the house.”

There is a pause. He does not want to get upset again.

“You did not travel elsewhere at all?” Imhotep prompts. “It is strange to imagine you so still for three years.”

“I went to Morocco,” Alec relents. “That was really good. Japan, too. And some different parts of the UK. The Scottish isles. The south coast. Places like that.” He blushes as he realises Imhotep may have no idea what he is talking about. “You’ve never left Egypt?”

“The borders were different in my time,” he says. “But no, I have only been outside of Egypt in London, with you, when we were on our travels.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, as if he and it had nothing to do with Alex’s parents’ deaths, but Alex finds he can’t bring himself to get angry.

“And now you have graduated,” Imhotep continues. “And you wish to return to Egypt permanently?”

He nods vaguely. He hadn’t really given it much thought.

“But not with colleagues from your university?”

Alex gives him a weary look.

“It’s a different world nowadays, you know. _You_ may be able to do whatever you want, but everywhere else there’s rules, there’s administration, there’s politics. It takes so much time and effort to-”

He breaks off, not wanting to sound like a petulant child having his first taste of the real world.

Imhotep nods however. “I do not doubt it,” he says.

Alex has finished his food. It was good, but he doesn’t crave more. He reaches out for another sip of wine, the sweet kind that he’d never managed to find outside Egypt. He closes his eyes briefly to savour it. Imhotep is watching him when he opens his eyes. It is slightly disorienting. He had questions for Imhotep too, and he struggles to remember these now.

“Your men seem a little less...goonish than in my memory. Except for Lock-Nah.”

“I am not familiar with that term, though I can guess it’s meaning. Many of my men have been dismissed. I need dedicated archaeologists and similar knowledge workers rather than brute force.”

Alex nods once. Makes sense.

“I have weird memories about growing up here,” he ventures. “I’m not sure which are dreams and which aren’t.”

“You had an extraordinary childhood,” Imhotep agrees. “But I doubt any of what you remember was a dream. I showed you visions, kingdoms, other worlds.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex says tiredly. He glances at Imhotep uncertainly and steels himself. “What happened to - your girlfriend?”

Imhotep does not hesitate. “We had a disagreement over power. She ran and fell to her death.” He frowns. “For a long time I thought it was better to be dead too. But I have made my peace - at least, I am trying to make my peace with that pain. It is a glorious world, and there is always something to live for.”

Alex avoids his gaze, feeling these comments hit a little too close to home.

Forcing himself to continue, he asks, “Did you kiss me before I left?”

Imhotep smirks at this. “I did. That was no dream. But I assure you I did not touch you in your childhood.”

“That was good of you,” he mutters. He swallows, forcing himself to see this through. “So, why…?”

Imhotep thinks for a moment.

“You had grown up. You were - and still are - a fine man. I would have liked to be close with you, if you had stayed.”

Alex finds himself blushing, his skin turning red hot under his clothes. He had never been spoken to in this way by anyone.

“Don’t look so worried, boy,” the priest chuckles. “I will not come near you without your permission.”

“Good to know,” he mutters. A certain tension leaves him, knowing that it wasn’t a sick fantasy of his own making, and that he is not in danger of any non consensual acts going forward. Assuming Imhotep was telling the truth, but Alex doesn’t want to think about that.

"I have missed you," the other man says then. "I thought of reaching out to you in London, but I thought you may want your space. If you choose to leave us again, I hope we may stay in contact."

Alex snorts, tries to hide with trembling with bravado. 

“You’re lying.”

“Lying? Why would I lie to you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but if you can murder people you’re not going to have a  problem telling a few lies, are you?”

He hears Imhotep breathe out through his teeth.

“I understand you are angry. I will leave you alone for tonight.”

And of course this is the real knife in the gut, for the moment Imhotep is gone Alex will wish he were still here. He remembers being ill once in the desert, Imhotep watching over him, preparing medicine, mopping his brow. He remembers hating him yet grudgingly loving him at the same time, needing him. He feels like this now.

He says nothing, guilt churning in his stomach as he's soothed by the comforting words, the offer of contact, of care.  

_Your parents' murderer. Your parents' murderer._

Imhotep rises and takes their plates over to a small unit by the door, for the hotel staff to collect. “You know where I am if you need anything.”

Taking this as his dismissal, Alex nods once and gets to his feet, edging round Imhotep to get to the door.

His heart is still thumping by the time he is in bed himself, and it is a long while before he sleeps.

-

After breakfast, Alex is outside with Lock-Nah in the early hours, handing the man various oils and tools as he cleans his weapons, as he had done during their travels in his youth out of sheer boredom. He looks around them critically as Lock-Nah works.

“Imhotep's ranks have halved considerably," Alex remarks, thinking on Imhotep's words last night. 

 

“A lot were dismissed when he had no use of them,” Lock-Nah grunts. Alex wonders if ‘dismissed’ meant what he thought it did. "And those that are left truly wish to serve the Gods."

"And that includes you?"

Lock-Nah doesn't look at him as he thinks about his reply.

"It is a good life. Lord Imhotep is a fair man, and offers exposure to wonders beyond this world."

 Alex reflects on this a moment. 

“And what about you, boy?” Lock-Nah says unexpectedly. “You have some explaining to do yourself, do you not? Coming back here, of your own will. How you used to fight us. To this day I don’t know how or why Lord Imhotep was so patient with you.”

He tosses aside one dagger and holds out his hand for the next one.

“It’s my charm and ace personality, of course,” Alex says, handing it to him. He watches the other man work for a moment. “I missed Egypt,” he muttered. “I don’t know what I was looking for, but I had nowhere else to go. I don’t care what happens to me.”

Lock-Nah pauses in his ministrations. Before he can answer, Imhotep emerges from the hotel courtyard and nods to them both.

“We leave at dawn.”

Lock-Nah looks at him when Imhotep is gone.

“Have you kept up with your lessons?”

It takes Alex a moment to work out his meaning. “I do martial arts classes. Mostly karate. Why, fancy a kick around later?”

“It would give me great pleasure.”

Sometimes Alex wonders why he does these things to himself.

-

They are below ground that same time the next day. Alex breathes in the dust, a thrill coursing through his blood, and for a moment he is almost happy. He nudges the others out of the way when they are too slow in deciphering the hieroglyphics to unlock the doors, in finding hidden keys. He is disappointed when Imhotep has them retire for the night. 

"Can't I keep going?" he asks.

"You can, but scarabs are more likely to come out in the dark."

Fine. It would be good to rest anyway, and make a full day of it tomorrow. He goes back to his tent still humming with energy, preparing a basin of water to wash away his efforts of the day. 

Imhotep enters as he is sluicing water over his skin, making him jump. Tents don't allow for knocking, and announcing himself was probably beneath Imhotep anyway.

"Excuse me," the priest says with a slight bow of his head, as Alex covers himself half-halfheartedly with a towel. "You have enjoyed today?"

"Yeah, sure, I always enjoy a new dig," he says casually, his heart pounding. He hopes his excitement does not show on his face. He does not want to grow close to Imhotep. The man strides further into the room, his step soft and sure, and sits by Alex's side. His hand ghosts up the younger man's side, enticing a shiver from the damp skin.

Alex takes a breath.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t touch me without my permission?”

“Then consider this a request for your permission,” he purrs. He leans in to nuzzle the younger man's throat. 

Something tightens inside Alex for a moment, fear and hope fighting it out, before he knocks the other man back hard with a snarl. “Then consider this my answer.”

The other man merely chuckles and bows his head.

“Very well. I did not mean to upset you.”

He leaves shortly afterwards, but the sick taste in Alex throat doesn't go away. He had wanted it, craved the comfort of it. He wants to stop being alone, wants to be wanted and worth something. Dressing hastily, he shoulders his way out of the tent and to a faint pathway just outside camp. He has a good memory of the map, and he is not afraid. He follows the path, and later the sounds when it becomes too dark to see, lulled by the rush of water ahead.

The moon reappears from its clouds as he reaches his destination, illuminating the thundering waterfall below him. He has to swallow at how beautiful it is. He has done the right thing in leaving London, in not allowing his body to wash up in the Thames. 

A voice speaks from behind him then, and Alex is not surprised. 

“Three years have been long to you because you are young, Alexander. But London is but one city, England but one country. You have many places to see, many people to meet. Sheltered, privileged young men and women will have a very different background to your own, but there will be others who see you for what you truly are." Alex sighs. He puts his hand on the rock wall to steady himself, and does not look around. The water soothes him. The beauty and silence of the land draws him in.

"You have seen but the tip of the iceberg that is the world, Alexander," the priest continues. "You are not ready to leave it yet." 

"You and your pep talks," Alex murmurs. Perhaps Imhotep has a point. But he is tired of being alone, friendless, purposeless. He is weak, spoiled - he knows many have forged a life from themselves from crueler and sparser backgrounds than his own. But looking at the land, it is hard to remember he has come here to die. He has no idea what he wants now.

Imhotep steps up behind him and finally closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around the other's waist, and Alex doesn’t have it in him to fight him off.

“You are unhappy, boy.”

“Go away."

“I wish you would let me comfort you.”

“You wish I would let you fuck me, you mean.”

There’s a tense little silence. Just as Alex is about to elbow him off and run, the man’s grip tightens. “No,” he says. “I wish to understand you and grow close to you. I wish to comfort you and help you however you may need. I wish to end your pain where possible.”

Alex snorts, but doesn’t shove him off. The warmth is comforting. 

"You are always welcome here with me," the priest murmurs. "Stay as long as you wish, and we will see what will happen."


End file.
